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It was solely by training so deeply ingrained in the bones of his body that he didn’t immediately tip forward into Rome’s arms like a swooning maiden.
Mok's hands clenched in front of his body in a futile attempt to ground himself, a movement that didn’t escape the razor-sharp focus of the man in front of him.
Kritdanai Rome Arseni looked like a painting despite definitely being real, and Mok didn’t know how to deal with the surge of emotion that coiled in his chest. Their eyes were locked in a stalemate, the air thin and making Mok feel like he needed to keep inhaling more to stay sane.
He could feel the slow flutter of Rome’s adoring eyes sweeping over his tense body the second he broke the staring match, goosebumps lighting up his skin under his tight suit.
“Did you miss me too?” The gentle inflection to Rome’s voice was grating to Mok, embarrassing him to an impossible degree. Couldn’t the ever observant man see how much Mok had missed him? How he’d stayed staring into space till the late hours of the night, waiting for a message?
Mok’s back straightened as he raised his head to lock eyes with the glittering ones in front of him once again.
“Khun Kritdanai, Master Thee has been awaiting your arrival for a while.” His tone was precise, devoid of any feeling and his face was carefully blank. It wouldn’t do for the secretary of the Arseni house to lose composure so quickly, in public no less.
Rome’s smile dimmed a touch, his eyes losing their glisten. If he had ears, they’d be drooping like a kicked pup’s.
His neck seemed to straighten to match the firm set of Mok’s, and shiny heels clicked as Rome stepped upward, blatantly invading Mok’s space and bringing them eye level.
He brought with him the intoxicating scent of cognac and sandalwood, carefully blanketing the dubious aroma of gunpowder; a perfect blend that was uniquely Rome.
“That’s a shame. I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet Master Thee any time soon. I have some… prior engagements, you see.” His tone was breathy, completely inappropriate for the location they were standing at, and lighting up Mok’s face with a horribly vivid blush.
Mok’s tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips, his eyes skittish and his heartbeat a drum in his ears. The rustle of fabric was the only warning before a broad hand came up to dance over Mok’s clasped ones, the contact charged. He should’ve worn his gloves today, if only to lessen the familiarity of Rome’s touch.
“Secretary Mok,” Rome teased, placing unnecessary emphasis on the title and making it sound so sleazy that Mok wanted to ban him from ever repeating it. The younger Arseni leaned in, freezing Mok in place as his breath spread over the tiny sliver of skin not covered by his collar.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” The question was more of a statement, leaving no room for refusal despite giving the illusion of choice. Mok moved his head away from Rome’s, huffing out heavily despite only being able to smell dizzying sandalwood. He cleared his throat to dissipate the tension and turned around so quickly his shoulder bumped into Rome’s plush mouth.
The younger Arseni gasped dramatically behind him, clutching his chin like he’d been mortally wounded. Mok didn’t spare him a glance, long used to the theatrics of the siblings and made a beeline to the front door of the mansion. Frantic clicking of shoes followed him just as he had anticipated; the warmth of Rome was never too far, no matter how fast Mok moved.
Stop it.
Mok scolded himself internally, his hands shaking only slightly as he turned the handle with a click, the clean scent of the mansion a welcome respite. Rome seemed to shadow every step Mok took, the destination already clear to him despite not a single word exchanged between them.
They’d done this song and dance an embarrassing number of times, though Mok could never grow used to how in tune he seemed to be with the other man.
Especially since he hasn't seen how much you’ve changed just yet.
The reminder was like being dunked in a bucket of ice, the blooming heat in Mok’s heart dampening in an instant. He walked the way to Rome’s (their) bedroom on muscle memory, his face carefully blank and shoulders weighted down. He distantly registered taking off his earpiece and setting it down on a random table nearby. The steady click of shoes mirroring his own did nothing to alleviate the steady stream of what-ifs that flooded his mind, already bracing himself for the rejection he would undoubtedly face the second Rome got his clothes off.
He stood at the door of their bedroom rigidly, his hands limp at his sides and uncooperative. Rome was behind him, not even a second later, his head tilting in confusion at the lack of movement from Mok. When it was clear the secretary wasn’t willing to explain his stillness either, a hand reached around Mok’s body to unlock the door in a fluid motion.
Rome ushered Mok into the extravagantly pristine room with his body impossibly gently, their shoulders parallel and brushing.
We’re almost the same size now.
Mok couldn’t help but notice the fact almost immediately, a far cry from the way Rome used to bracket him in before. Their feet shuffled awkwardly on the lush carpet as the door closed behind them with a click, while Rome worked on wrapping his arms around the firm set of Mok’s waist like an octopus.
The sculpted jaw of the younger Arseni rested on Mok’s shoulder from behind, guileless eyes peering up at the secretary with an emotion he didn’t dare decipher.
“Khun Mok…” Rome began in a simpering tone, intentionally drawing out the sound until it was almost a whine. His nose twitched adorably, a habit Mok associated with him getting ready to beg his way into something.
“You look so stressed, Khun. Won’t you let me take care of you?” Rome’s chin tickled Mok as he spoke while not lifting his head from his shoulder, the younger Arseni’s hands already feeling up the secretary’s front.
Mok’s eyes watered inexplicably, his hands shooting up to halt Rome’s in their place just as they started unbuttoning his blazer. He averted his head to stare out the floor-length windows that let in streaming sunlight, not wishing for Rome to spy the hint of tears at his waterline.
The sudden movement was clearly the wrong thing to do, because Rome immediately straightened up and moved in front of Mok. Warm, thick hands cradled his cheeks with undeserving gentleness, maneuvering his head until he was forced to make eye contact with the younger Arseni.
Rome’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and Mok’s heart seemed to shudder in its ribbed cage. He hated being doted on like this, unused to the attention and having to confront demons that were best left to be tackled in solitude.
“Mok? What’s wrong? Did I say something? Did anybody hurt you?” Rome’s thumbs were moving in comforting circles all over the apples of his cheeks, reverence oozing from every pore of his body. Mok’s hands clumsily bumped into his glasses as he tried to hastily wipe away any evidence despite already being an open book to the other.
“No. It’s nothing like that. I’m sorry, I just—“ Mok began, saliva suddenly flooding his mouth and slurring his sentence. He closed his eyes and leaned into the hands on his face, taking several grounding breaths as he resisted the irrational urge to shake off Rome’s hold and run away. When he opened his eyes again, he met the gaze of his lover unwaveringly, finding no better way to tackle the issue than to go head-on.
“I don’t look like me anymore.” Mok exhaled with a shuddering breath, his own hands coming up to overlap Rome’s and squeeze in warning when the other man opened his mouth to undoubtedly object.
“I’ve grown since we last met. I’ve noticed the changes myself; I see it every day whenever I look in the mirror. I’m sorry that I… I don’t look like the Mok you’re used to anymore.” He spilled, his eyes and ears hot with the embarrassment of being laid bare in front of the only person he’d ever thought to love. Mok’s throat closed up before he could continue rambling, every swallow painful, and the sandalwood scent wafting from Rome’s wrists distracting.
Rome didn’t speak for a long moment, seemingly intent on bringing Mok down to a state where he was taking steady breaths that weren’t choked gasps. His face has become carefully blank, an expression Mok so rarely saw, but his eyes remained as open as ever. He used the grip he had on Mok’s face to bring their heads together slowly, never breaking eye contact as they breathed as one. Rome’s eyes slipped closed before he drew back, taking his warmth with him.
Mok chased after it helplessly, biting his lip to stay his ground lest he embarrass himself before the official rejection even came.
“Mok,” Rome began, his voice firm and reverberating through his chest. The set of his eyebrows was unyielding and stern, making him suddenly appear so much older than his age. Mok couldn’t help but internally swoon at how handsome it made him look, unused to anything short of the absolutely smitten gazes Rome often aimed at him.
“I would spend the rest of my life lathering my attention on you every second of the day, if it meant things like that never crossed your mind. You are my everything, have been my everything for a long time, and no force on this planet could ever change that. Never doubt my love for you, because it is the only thing I’m sure of, no matter the time, day, or place.”
Rome spoke with unwavering conviction, his voice strong and his gaze unblinking. The intensity of his words seemed to take a while to truly sink into Mok, his head fuzzy and dopamine constantly firing as the gravity of Rome’s attention blanketed him.
“You are the only one that I will ever love. I love you so much it hurts to stay away from you. You’re mine in any shape or form you take. The threads of my soul are woven with yours forever.”
His voice seemed to grow rough with possessiveness, as if he were fighting himself to speak. His breath was moist as it hit Mok’s lips, Rome panting open-mouthed as he poured the words out.
Mok stood still, his heart in his throat and his lips trembling as he let himself finally fall into the chasm that was Rome’s boundless love. The pulses in their overlapping wrists beat in tandem, and all Mok could smell was Rome.
“Doesn’t Mok love Rome just as much?” The younger Arseni asked in a small voice that was terribly fragile, his face the picture of desperation like he couldn’t live without Mok.
“I love you, Rome.”
Mok whispered, his lips spit slick and trembling, the confession as real as their heartbeats that thrummed as one. As real as Rome’s love was, surpassing all the physical barriers that had kept Mok up countless nights in worry.
Rome’s face broke out in a smile that left Mok breathless, the joy and adoration so tangible it felt like his own. He surged forward, catching Mok’s parted lips like he needed them for air. Mok met him halfway, pouring into it every feeling of melancholy and loneliness that had plagued him in the other’s absence unrestrained.
Sweltering, familiar hands squeezed his flushed cheeks like they couldn’t help themselves, and moved downward to the half-buttoned blazer to swiftly undo them at a breakneck pace. Their lips met with audible smacks that coloured Mok’s ears crimson, his own hands no less hurried as they grasped at Rome’s jacket to get it off. Rome’s all-encompassing presence grew impossibly closer, forcing Mok to back up into the middle of the room where the obscenely large bed was positioned, his tongue clumsily intertwining with the other’s.
The kiss broke when the back of Mok’s knees hit the bed, making him fall backward into the plush sheets just as Rome freed him of his blazer and threw it to the side. He didn’t get a single moment of respite before Rome was diving down to capture his lips in an even deeper kiss, flattening the secretary as his hands groped his waist.
Mok’s lips were tingling when Rome drew back next, his eyes hazy behind his tilted glasses that were quickly set aside as saliva strands glistened between them. The younger Arseni was a vision, backlit by the sunlight streaming into the room, his broad chest moving rapidly under his fitted turtleneck as his darkened eyes practically undressed Mok.
No word could even begin to describe the euphoria of having such a gorgeous, understanding, devoted man on his knees for Mok.
“Look at you.” The tone was reverent, Rome’s hands caressing the tight vest wrapping around Mok’s waist, the gun holster framing his shoulders and making them appear broader. Mok hunched inward subconsciously, his hands unsure of how to position to hide the width of his new body from the man who seemed intent on seeing every inch.
Rome tsked disapprovingly the second he spied the doubt on Mok’s face, the sound making the secretary feel like he was a reprimanded child. Hands grasped at his firmly, intertwining their fingers and shoving them away from his body. Rome’s knees dug near the hardness now embarrassingly visible through Mok’s fitted slacks, forcing the secretary to scoot further up the bed and spread his legs.
“Don't hide. This is all mine.” Rome's tone brooked no room for argument. Mok felt an almost violent surge of heat course through his body, almost as if it recognized the only person who could play him like an instrument.
Rome ducked his head down to lavish attention on Mok’s lips once again, as one hand slyly began to undo the waistcoat button by button. Mok bit Rome’s lips in surprise when he felt a knee brush up against the front of his slacks, moaning obscenely at the friction.
The younger Arseni seemed to get even more excited by the noise, his hands working through the motions of undoing every one of Mok’s carefully constructed defences. The secretary felt a gentle touch at the small of his back, tugging him upward as Rome loosened the tie at his neck with deliberate slowness. The gun holster clacked as it slid from his shoulders, Rome breaking their kiss to tip Mok’s head back.
Mok’s breath shortened at the feel of Rome’s wet tongue at his pulse, lavishing spit before sucking so hard a bruise formed almost immediately. His hands grasped at the stiff strands of Rome’s hair, messing it up as he felt teeth graze his Adam’s apple.
Rome’s mouth worked as efficiently as his hands, swiftly unbuttoning the dark shirt Mok had donned, patience clearly dwindling because he ripped it open halfway through. Mok’s head snapped down, a complaint at the tip of his tongue, before Rome zeroed in on his peaked nipples with predator accuracy.
“Ah!” Mok’s back arched at the feel of a warm mouth enclosing his chest, beyond sensitive to the stimulation. Rome groaned against his skin like this was somehow bringing him pleasure, as his hands slid out Mok’s belt and his pants off his legs.
The secretary’s hands kneaded at Rome’s turtleneck, shuddering at the obscene picture they most likely painted with Mok almost nude and the younger Arseni still fully clothed.
“R-Rome…” Mok panted, one hand coming up to cover his mouth in shyness.
Rome’s eyes snapped open to meet his, without slowing his ministrations on the nipple in his mouth. Mok coloured in mortification, feeling somewhat like a chew toy for an overexcited pup. His hands pushed at the covered shoulders, yanking at the plush fabric.
“I want to see you too,” Mok whispered it like a secret, the transparent words never feeling quite right on his tongue no matter how many times they coupled.
Rome was like a dog to a bone, and the first time he’d noticed Mok was impossibly shy at voicing his desires during sex, he’d made the secretary enunciate everything he’d wanted done to him in detail, or they wouldn’t proceed. After that humiliating experience, Mok had been more receptive to speaking what he wanted, if only to avoid a complete repeat of the situation.
Rome’s grin was all teeth when he finally detached from Mok’s nipple with an audible pop, and it was all the information the secretary needed to realize he wouldn’t be getting off easy this time either.
“Oh? Mok wants to see Rome? But you are seeing me… we're dating.” The shit-eating grin almost made Mok kick the other from the bed and get himself off.
Mok’s eyebrows furrowed, and he curled his hands into Rome’s sweater to yank him down so they were face to face.
“You know what I mean! Strip.” Mok huffed against swollen lips, desire bleeding into impatience and feeling like he was not above ripping Rome’s clothes off too, even if his face burned with shame.
“Mok is so hot when he tells me what to do.” Rome’s eyes were half-lidded, looking all too pleased at garnering a reaction from the usually reserved secretary, tongue licking his lips as he ground forward. Mok gasped against his mouth, almost leaning forward to bite Rome in agitation before the other man pulled back to take off his sweater.
The scars on the muscled abdomen were a familiar sight he’d yearned for too many times to count, and absolutely nothing compared to having it under his hands once again. Rome unbuckled his belt with a clack that felt impossibly loud in the room, unbuttoning his pants before he was on Mok again. He gave the secretary another roguish grin, his hands caressing the scarred and muscled skin like he'd never seen it before.
Mok was flushed till his chest in seething embarrassment, having forgotten the sheer humiliation of wanting Rome so bad he was practically boneless underneath him. His body seemed to brace for Rome, to have him in any shape or form possible. His thoughts were distracted the second he felt a touch at his covered hole, the muscle contracting in surprise as Rome’s other hand kneaded at Mok’s hip.
Rome planted kiss after kiss everywhere his mouth could reach, loud mwahs almost comical as he trailed his lips from Mok’s neck to his waist. Rome made out with Mok’s hipbone with such attention that the secretary wriggled in impatience soon enough, his desire throbbing at having the other so close and yet so far away.
Rome huffed at Mok’s hip, his breath tickling and making the other man squirm away. A giggle sounded out, almost making Mok whine at the sheer audacity of the younger Arseni to be teasing him like this.
When the other man came up for air, his eyes were alight with a strange intensity, even if his grin was still as light-hearted as ever.
Mok shivered despite the oppressive warmth in the room, getting a sense of foreboding that only spelled trouble where Rome was concerned. Rome squeezed his hips once again, a twinge ringing out where his thumb pressed into the bruises now dotting his skin.
The younger Arseni shifted slightly, opening the bottom drawer of the bedside table with a careless hand. The click of a lube bottle made Mok unclench in something almost Pavlovian, though the rustle of chains had him pausing in confusion.
Rome’s face surfaced again, his hands now laden with a full lube bottle and grinning at Mok as if he hadn't heard anything at all. His fingers dripped slick on the bed sheets, Rome only tipping out even more lube excessively. His free hand yanked at Mok’s briefs clumsily, the other man tilting his hips to help take them off.
The second Mok’s erection was free, he threw his arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow as he turned away. He would always prefer the intimate cover of night to broad daylight, but sometimes Rome forced his hand. The embarrassment of being able to see every inch of desire on Rome’s face and have him see all of Mok would never cease to get old.
Rome cooed, a little condescendingly if the huff of laughter at the end was anything to go by, and trailed his lubricated fingers down the inside of Mok’s thighs.
They trembled like leaves in the wind, no doubt fighting the compelling urge to snap shut if not for the knowledge that Rome would pry them apart again in an instant. Thick fingers toyed with his rim, the muscle unused but yielding under Rome’s careful hands. His cock drooled onto his stomach, his want unable to hide itself in the face of the only person who’d ignited it.
The hand that wasn’t massaging Mok’s rim seemed content to dance feather-light touches on the secretary’s muscled abdomen, Rome clearly finding great delight in watching the muscles contract and relax minutely. His nipples were pebbled against the cold air, one still sore from the attention Rome had paid to it earlier. The gangster was trailing his eyes all over Mok at his leisure, suddenly leaning close. Mok felt Rome’s nose prod behind his ear, clearly trying to distract him as the tip of his slick finger entered inside.
Mok’s breath caught in his throat, a whimper escaping as he attempted to hide even further in his elbow. The intrusion wiggled around, not with intent but just getting accustomed to the narrow space. Rome lathered kisses all over Mok’s ear, pausing to suck a mark here and there as he made his way to the sharp jawline.
Mok turned his head to catch Rome’s heated mouth as it neared, pouring everything he felt into the kiss. It never seemed like enough, no matter how many kisses they shared, how many times Mok let Rome inside, the words they exchanged. Mok always wanted more, and Rome indulged him, if only for the fact that the younger Arseni was significantly greedier.
As if to prove his point almost immediately, Mok felt a keen start in his throat when a second finger prodded along his rim soon. The stretch was negligible, aided by the indecent amount of lube Rome had poured on his fingers, but it was still intimidating. Rome’s tongue invaded his mouth, brushing up behind his teeth and licking every crevice as his fingers moved below like he was digging for gold.
Rome’s fingers curled upwards, and a dirty moan tore from Mok's chest, jolts of electricity making his spine arch into the bulky chest perched above. Rome drew back and puckered his lips comically, definitely teasing now as he kept pushing into Mok’s prostate like it owed him money.
“Ro—Rome! N-not so fast!” Mok stuttered, his hand shooting downwards in an attempt to still the rocking movement of Rome’s. The excessive lube made sounds that had Mok regretting the day he was born with functional hearing.
Strings formed between Rome’s hand and Mok’s skin every time he drew back his hand, only to surge forward even harder. Mok’s mouth seemed to be parted permanently, every refute only coming out as a moan that was nothing short of blissful.
Rome was staring at every minute change in Mok’s face, strands of his hair falling into his eyes and making him look heart-stoppingly voracious.
He chased every movement of Mok’s hips that attempted to get away from the stimulation for fear of coming too soon, clearly not giving him a choice in the matter. Just as Mok’s hips rolled downward, Rome inserted another finger to join in on the bullying of his prostate.
The secretary nearly screamed at the ruthless attention, tears breaking free from his waterline and rolling into his hair. Every neuron in his body was firing, his abdomen clenching painfully as his hips were nearly in the air in an attempt to grind into the stimulation.
Mok’s hand scratched at the unstopping wrist of Rome’s, trying to warn him before his muscles locked, breath caught in his throat.
His back arched fully off the bed, his eyes rolling into his head as he came all over his stomach, mouth parted in a soundless cry. Mok saw unseeing for several moments as his body floated, his brain completely fuzzy and breaths harsh.
“Mok has been holding out on me…”
The whiny tone was undercut by an inexplicable breathlessness. When Mok moved his stiff neck downward to meet the eyes of his lover, he nearly scoffed.
The younger Arseni’s face drooped downward into a pout, his full bottom lip red and glistening. His eyes shone with crocodile tears, eyebrows collapsed in on each other like Mok had rejected him.
“Wh—wha…?” The secretary questioned eloquently, always seemingly ten steps behind whenever Rome wanted to play his little games. Rome’s lower lip wobbled theatrically, the slick hand that had been inside Mok just moments before scooping up the translucent spend on his stomach. Rome seemed to examine it like a scientist, humming and hawing as one would with a foreign substance.
His dark eyes then snapped up to Mok’s incredulous ones as he brought his fingers into his mouth seemingly in slow motion. His tongue laved over the digits, a shudder visibly going through him.
Despite just having come under those very hands, Mok's cock gave a traitorous twitch against his stomach, breath stuttering.
“You got off without me?” Rome’s voice only seemed to get higher in faux indignation, the tone making Mok give him an even more bewildered expression. He had, not even a day before in a moment of lonely desperation, but he didn't see a reason to inform the younger Arseni of his masturbation habits.
Rome's pout deepened and his eyes narrowed angrily, grasping at Mok’s yet limp cock, making him hiss in oversensitivity. When no explanation or confession came from the secretary, he seemed to wilt.
“And here I thought I was the only one who had the pleasure of getting you off…” Rome simpered and rubbed his head against Mok’s chest like a whiny puppy, his hand beginning to jerk the secretary’s cock despite half-hearted protests.
“What—what are you talking about?” Mok squirmed in discomfort, his cock responsive despite still being oversensitive. He was not as indifferent to Rome’s wiles as he believed himself to be, feeling especially indulgent after a brain-numbing orgasm.
“Your cum is so thin… You didn’t save it up for me… Mok hates me so much…” Rome sobbed melodramatically, voice pitiful and hand tightening over the cock in his grip. His eyes were rimmed the slightest bit red when he raised his head from Mok’s chest, cheeks ruddy.
Mok’s voice pitched up when he opened his mouth to answer, the unexpected dig of a thumb into the head of his now half-hard cock sending him spiralling.
“Are you—are you insane?! Why the fuck would I do t-that?!” He slapped at Rome’s shoulder, completely exhausted at the sheer buffoonery this man-child subjected him to. To be upset over something as inane as Mok jerking off on his own was a feat only the younger Arseni could accomplish, unashamed and loud about his displeasure.
Rome’s head neared Mok’s, his hand making slick sounds as it now languidly jerked him off. The younger Arseni’s face had darkened, his pout falling flat, and eyes now piercing. Mok trembled under him, the cooling cum on his stomach uncomfortable, but the vague sense he wouldn’t get to clean up anytime soon imminent.
“No? Then… should I show Mok how much I’ve been saving up?” Rome asked, his other hand already disappearing to click open the lube bottle tossed nearby. Mok flushed at the lewd question, rendered speechless by the shamelessness of his lover but refusing to break eye contact.
Rome drew back just a little, enough for Mok to see him slick the girthy length standing against his toned stomach. The younger Arseni then shifted forward, his hand wrapping around Mok’s slim ankle to hold him firm.
Mok blinked, his eyes feeling warm at the overwhelming feeling of Rome’s cock slowly breaching him, hot and throbbing. The other man went slow, impossibly slow, his half-lidded gaze on Mok’s face unwavering, but it did nothing to dissipate the feeling of being invaded.
Rome’s free hand wandered up to squeeze at a rosy nipple, hissing when it caused Mok to clamp down on his cock almost immediately. That seemed to break the slow and steady pace, because Rome’s hips kicked forward seemingly on instinct, filling Mok completely.
Mok gasped at the hefty weight now seated in his gut, Rome taking laboured breaths above him like he was physically restraining himself. Like this, it was practically impossible for his prostate to be left untouched. The swollen nub was oversensitive, and Mok curled his hands into the luxurious sheets helplessly.
Meanwhile, Rome’s attention seemed to finally have shifted from his face to his stomach, looking enraptured. His hips drew back lazily, unbearably slow as if to lull Mok into a false sense of security.
Then, as sharp as a whip, Rome’s cock thrust into Mok to hit his prostate with blinding accuracy.
“K—Khun Rome!” Mok’s voice was an impossible pitch, unrecognizable to even himself as his back arched clean off the bed and his hips tilted to drive Rome even deeper. The title unintentionally slipped out, instinct overriding familiarity, and Rome's lips pursed in displeasure.
“Mok!” An answering cry met his own, bordering on mockery but so imbued with genuine affection that Mok felt himself blubber through a reprimand as his eyes squinted open in outrage. The grin on Rome’s face was nothing short of love-sick, his broad and toned body making Mok feel like he was being taken by a Greek god.
Rome's eyes took in every inch of Mok's new body, admiring the way the secretary's now broad shoulders tapered into a ridiculously tiny waist. The mere notion that he would ever find this unattractive was astonishing to the younger Arseni, his head tilting back in ecstasy when Mok clenched down even tighter, the veins in his neck bulging against the reddened skin.
His hips picked up a steady rhythm intent on railing Mok into the mattress, desire threaded through every harsh exhale. Mok’s fingers were cramping from the grip he had on the bedsheets, tears stinging his eyes already as Rome’s cock sawed against his prostate on every thrust.
The headboard slammed into the wall tellingly, Mok too out of his mind to worry about the other security that might be standing around. Rome seemed to have no problem forgetting about all of that, because his hand lifted Mok’s leg onto a wide shoulder, the positioning driving the head of his cock directly into Mok’s prostate.
Mok let out a startled scream, drool dripping down the sides of his mouth as his hand sought Rome’s blindly. Thick fingers grasped his almost immediately, bringing them to the plane of his stomach without any falter in Rome’s rhythm.
“Look, Mok.” Rome cooed, his words gasped out as sweat dripped from his body onto Mok. The secretary let out a confused whimper, his eyes bleary and hardly able to make out what Rome was referring to.
“No matter how big you get, I’ll always be able to see myself here, where I belong.”
The younger Arseni seemed almost proud to be showing his discovery to Mok, who was two thrusts away from passing out. His moans collapsed into something almost whiny when he spied exactly what Rome was talking about.
The chiselled muscles of Mok’s stomach relaxed around the visible intrusion of the gangster's cock on every thrust in, the image almost unreal if not for the way Rome was using both of their hands to caress it like a man possessed.
Mok squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping through the sides as liquid heat coursed through his body anew. He had never felt so much pleasure coupled with embarrassment in his life, the dual sensations too much for his sensitive body. It seemed like Rome had not an ounce of shame, commenting on every little thing he noticed about Mok's body and how it responded under his ministrations.
“R—Rome! I can’t any—anymore!” Mok sobbed out, his body feeling like a ragdoll as he was moved further up the bed with every thrust of Rome’s hips. The prominent sight of Rome physically in Mok was unbearable, his release almost hastening in response.
“Mok, Mok, I love you so much, do you know that?” Rome chanted, lowering his upper body down, grasping Mok's other leg to throw both over his shoulders. The stretch was uncomfortable, spasms of pain bleeding into pleasure as Mok’s toes curled in the air. His hands clawed at Rome’s thick biceps, his back, his clenched thighs, anything he could hold as his orgasm hurtled towards him.
Mok’s head shook in delirious agreement, his mouth lax and his tongue rolling over itself in an effort to reciprocate the words. The younger Arseni seemed to understand his intention regardless, hopeless worship and enthrallment plain on his face so close to Mok's. His hips still moved into the secretary like a piston, untiring and focused as Mok whimpered and whined his pleasure.
A hand wound between them to touch Mok’s bouncing cock, the touch being almost featherlight but more than enough.
Mok’s legs clenched on either side of Rome's neck, his moan ringing through the room with finality. Mok broke, his cock twitching violently as cum splattered between them, his nails raking lines down Rome’s back.
Rome groaned like he’d been given a gift, his rhythm faltering as he folded Mok even further to lick the tears that’d run down the sides of the other man's face. His ragged breaths were like a beast’s, undercutting the overstimulated whimpers Mok let out as his hands batted at Rome’s hips.
“Rome… Rome… please…” The weak pleas were unbearable, spoken from the swollen lips of Rome's beloved as his hazy eyes glistened with tears. Rome growled as he fitted his teeth against the front of Mok’s throat, biting down as his hips slammed with sloppy assuredness.
“Fuck, Mok. I’m, I’m gonna fill you up. Get you so full, everybody would know you're mine.” He rambled almost instinctively, the force of his climax hitting him like a truck. Rome buried himself into Mok with a guttural noise, spilling into the spent man beneath him, as close to Mok as he could get.
Mok shuddered at the feeling of hot cum flooding his insides, the twitching of Rome’s hefty cock driving him near insane. The gangster rolled his hips to ride out the aftershocks, only stopping with a breathless chuckle when Mok swatted at his thighs. He leaned down to plant a kiss on Mok’s open mouth, licking apologetically at the vibrant indent of teeth framing his throat.
Rome didn’t pull out, sliding lithe legs off his shoulders and leaning back just enough to gaze at the way Mok’s thoroughly used rim clung to him like it was afraid of letting him go. Thick white cum dribbled from the sides of his cock, though a majority stayed within Mok.
The secretary tried to follow Rome's gaze down curiously, freezing slightly at the now-rounded curve of his drenched stomach that was definitely not there before.
I look pregnant.
He thought deliriously, his hand almost coming up to cradle it. Rome’s eyes snapped to the aborted movement immediately, never missing a thing when it came to his love. He met Mok’s eyes questioningly, only to notice the gaze focused on his now soft abdomen.
Rome’s breath left him in a rush, his cock giving a wry twitch from where it was still buried in Mok. The other man startled, definitely having felt the movement as his lips parted.
“Mok looks pregnant.”
Ever the shameless lover, Rome placed a warm hand on the spend nestled in Mok almost reverently. His eyes were alight with a worrying glow, Mok already bracing his aching muscles in preparation to flee.
“If Mok gets pregnant with my child, I wouldn’t have to separate from him ever again, right?”
The younger Arseni breathed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the distended skin, like Mok really was gravid. The post-orgasm bliss was wearing off quickly for the secretary, the notion preposterous despite the rush of heat that pooled in his already warm stomach.
“Would you like that? Like Rome to give you a child? We’d be the best fathers.” The younger Arseni was nothing if not persistent, huddling even closer to Mok despite already being inside him. The movement jostled the cum inside his stomach, Mok whimpering in discomfort and arousal alike.
“Or… Does Mok not want to have a child with me? Who’d be a better father? I’d keep you so full, give you as many as you want.” Mok's face was seething in renewed embarassment, the conversation rapidly unravelling beyond his control as Rome just kept fucking talking.
His parched throat struggled to vocalize anything as Rome rambled passionately above him, hands clasped with Mok’s like they were in a melodrama. There were even tears already glistening in his deceptively demure eyes, looking ridiculous coming from a man who’d just finished fucking Mok’s brains out.
“Don’t tell me… Mok really does hate Rom—?!” Mok yanked the exhausting Arseni down by a grip on the back of his neck, effectively shutting down any further theatrics as Rome melted into the kiss, their lips slotting together perfectly.
He moaned as Rome lifted him into his lap with solid arms behind his back, leaning back against the headboard with an ease that made Mok dizzy.
The movement drove the cock inside him further sharply, making Mok buck upwards in an effort to get away. Rome’s eyes were round and adoring when he pulled back, staring up at Mok like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at.
“So… you would bear my child?” Rome placed his chin on Mok’s sternum, looking at him through his eyelashes and tilting his head like a puppy. Mok flushed with indignation, wanting to look away, but Rome following him every step of the way.
“…Later.” He mumbled, his ears the colour of tomatoes as he clenched his eyes shut in embarrassment. Rome beamed with the light of a thousand suns, surging upwards for a kiss that Mok would never deny him, not in this lifetime.
“Then, I think we should start practicing now. For future reference.” Rome’s grin tilted into something more lecherous, his hips rocking up cheekily as his cock steadily hardened inside Mok. The secretary huffed, overstimulation wracking his spine, but grinding down into the hardness eagerly nonetheless.
“No more…! No more! Are you a fucking dog?!” The shrill cries echoing from Mok’s throat seemed to have as much impact now as they did three days ago.
Which is to say, not very much at all.
The younger Arseni had been relentless, putting Mok in every position imaginable, covering him with hickies and bruises like he was getting paid for it.
Which was why Mok was in his current predicament, bent over the bathroom counter, gun holster empty and jostling with every thrust, half-open shirt showcasing the multitude of purpling bites painting his chest. His breath fogged the expansive mirror as his glasses hung precariously on his nose.
A thick hand was clawed around one pec (he refused to call them tits, as Rome had so graciously suggested), pulling him back into each thrust as the other groped his sore thigh.
“But, but, Mok said he wouldn’t leave me. Why’s he trying to run away early?” Rome’s gaze was locked with Mok’s through the mirror, the simpering tone not at all in line with the dark expression that coloured his face. Rome had found him in the middle of his getting ready to head out on an assignment, per Khun Thee’s crisp instructions over a call that had sounded early in the morning.
He had told his employer he could ring him in three days rather than seven if his services were desperately required.
What he hadn’t anticipated was Rome waking up before he’d even gotten his slacks on, face thunderous as he rose from the bed in his silk red pyjamas and stalking forward with a tense set to his broad shoulders.
He’d pinned Mok to the marble sink, silk-covered front to the secretary’s clothed back, eyes carefully taking note of the tight gun holster, excessively high neck of the crisp shirt collar, and the shirt garters wrapped around his bruised thighs.
Mok had explained his predicament in a brisk tone, buttoning his cuffs as he searched for his pants, gloriously unaware of the cloudy expression on Rome’s face.
It had only dawned on him how utterly screwed he was when the other didn’t let him leave, Rome's voice deep and laden with possessiveness, his body a physical cage keeping Mok propped up against the sink counter.
“Hng!” Mok keened, his hands white knuckled in front of him in an attempt to hold on for dear life against the marble surface. Rome continued hammering into him with honed precision, slipping fingers in the shirt garters still attached to his thighs and pulling them tight against the already bruised skin. The secretary’s cock drooled on the counter, his knees trembling and caving inward in a futile attempt to keep himself upright.
The obscene sound of slapping skin was only covered by the pitched cries from Mok’s exhausted throat. Rome grunted when Mok’s hole clamped down on his cock in tandem with him pulling the shirt garter taut.
“R-Rome! I r-real—really! Have to go! Kh-un T—“ Mok tried to piece together a coherent sentence, his attempts only gaining him a tightening grip on his chest and a hand palming the visible print of Rome’s cock in his stomach. Mok couldn't make eye contact with himself in the mirror, his entire face resembling an apple, and eyes misty and dazed behind his slipping glasses. He looked like the picture of debauchery, bent over in the bathroom while Rome thrust into him from behind like a feral beast.
“Never mind P’Kian.” Rome said with finality, his thrusts growing heavy and punching cries from Mok’s throat even harder. The hands on the secretary's body were practically claws, feverish eyes taking in every squirm, every jolt, every bruise—proof of Rome's claim on him.
They both seemed to jump when the shrill ring of Mok’s phone sounded from the top of a cabinet.
Rome halted his thrusts, making Mok subconsciously whine at the absence. Rome shushed him gently, his hand now squeezing his hip and the other grasping to pick up the call.
“Speak.” The tone was cold, void of any warmth that usually suffused every sentence Rome spoke to Mok. Though his vision was blurry, he felt himself tremble at the stern expression on Rome’s face, usually reserved for meetings with the particularly unsavoury kind. It seemed to soften as he registered who was on the other side.
“Oh, Mok? I think he’s around here somewhere.” Rome’s eyes flitted to meet Mok’s in the mirror, devilish glint clear in the bathroom lights. Mok felt his heart drop to his stomach, immediately slapping both of his hands over his mouth.
Just in time too, because Rome thrust harshly forward, his hand the only thing stopping Mok’s sore hips from slamming into the counter. The muffled moan sounded deafening to Mok, and his entire body trembled with the effort to stay still while his boss was literally on call.
“Hmmm… I don’t think he’s available to carry out anything today.” Rome carried on talking normally, as if his hips weren’t doing dirty grinds directly into Mok’s prostate. The secretary’s vision was blurring with the effort to keep himself quiet, whimpers leaking through his hands despite his best efforts.
He glared at Rome through the mirror, clenching down in protest at the frankly terrible thing he was subjecting Thee to. Rome's face pinched, amusement leaking from his features a bit before he spoke again.
“Ah, he’s out of the bathroom now. Here, you can talk to him.”
Mok would personally strangle Rome with his bare hands for this.
The gangster was holding the phone down to Mok like he actually expected him to be able to talk while he was simultaneously getting his guts rearranged. Mok’s heavy breathing was his only answer, his head shaking vigorously and eyes tearing with humiliation.
Rome’s expression was wolfish, triumph oozing from every pore as he trailed his hand to knead at Mok’s cock and thrust forward, sending him hurtling towards orgasm.
Mok’s eyes widened and he buried his head in his arms to muffle a whimper, his fogged glasses clattering on the counter audibly as he came in the other man's hand. Rome yanked the phone back up to his own ear at lightning speed, satisfaction seeping through his tone as he lazily ground against the secretary, almost like he was rewarding Mok.
“Mm, yeah, he’s too busy to talk. Sorry about that, phi. Call after the seven days are up.” The younger Arseni had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, not bothering to hear Thee's response before hanging up and setting the phone down.
Mok glared at him over his shoulder, the effect significantly undercut by his watery eyes and crimson face. His hips shook in Rome's grasp, twitching with the aftermath of his orgasm. The gangster's face turned sheepish, completely at odds with the way he brought his dirty hand up to lick away Mok's cum like it was instinct.
“I hate you so much,” Mok said, petulant and mortified beyond belief, trying to resist following the way his devilish tongue worked to clean the hand off. Rome cooed, pulling out of his swollen hole with a loud schlick, turning the secretary around with coaxing hands and only getting swatted in return.
“But I only love you! I just... I really can’t help it when I see you wear all your slutty little accessories, you know. It makes me wanna lock you up and keep you with me forever…” Rome whimpered, his arms cradling Mok against him with excessive gentleness. Mok pushed at Rome’s chest, his lower lip still numb from almost biting through it and the shame of being fucked when his boss could've potentially heard him.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me, my beloved. I’m sorry I’m so greedy. I just want to spend as much time as possible with you.” The seemingly earnest apology was spoken with a nuzzle into his tits chest, making Mok question how truly genuine the other man was.
His anger dimmed against his will when Rome lifted his head to connect their eyes, hair soft across his forehead, and his lips equally swollen from their rigorous activities. Mok sighed as he ran a hand through the ungelled locks, heart swelling when Rome leaned into the touch like a puppy seeking milk.
“Pull a stunt like that again, and I will cut your dick off.”
“My love!”